World's End Dancehall
by Rikku Abdul
Summary: ON HIATUS. I may end up just taking this story down, because I really don't know where I'm going with it.
1. The Beginning of the End

**A/N:** Hi, and welcome to my first ever Vocaloid fic! I was really inspired by this song for some reason. I found this particular translation (included at the beginning of this chapter) on YouTube. If you haven't heard the song, I highly recommend you go listen to it. It's very good. This first chapter will be rather short, but expect longer chapters in the future. With that said, enjoy!

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**WORLD'S END DANCEHALL**

_Toeing the boundary of pain and punchline_

_Sliding down such a long banister_

_Every good thing's gone, but, hey, darling mine_

_Your hands are just like pure alabaster_

_A completely terrible stumbling dance_

_Yes, will you dance with me on the altar?_

_Our eyes are dazzled, but, hey, take a chance_

_What would it be like, right here, together?_

_High-pitched voices are filling up the whole room_

_Swirling in these terrible ways at length_

_Of course, they say the only thing left's doom_

_Come on, let's spit at that with all our strength!_

_Meaning tied together with these short little words_

_And your face doesn't match, makes them all feel unsure_

_Looking for that, too; looking for that, too_

_But I don't know what to do_

_Embarrassed as well as outraged, you said_

_Eyes are still downcast and smiling, I said_

_Those kinds of things are less fun than being dead!_

_With a hop-step, shall we dance, my darling?_

_In the corner of the whole world, a one-two_

_One little crash and I feel like I'm sparkling_

_This lovely sense of melting into you_

_We'd just disappear with a poof and a hurrah_

_So let's leave it all behind tomorrow_

_As we spin around, I say "aha!"_

_Because the turning world down below—_

_Only bystanders can really thrive here_

_Racing to board the very last train_

_Every single good thing's gone, but, hey, dear_

_If you bite my hand, will we be the same?_

_I'm always somewhat unusual; it's like fate's_

_Prank on me; I've been trying to believe_

_A dance with completely uneven gaits_

_Come on, let's ignore it like we're naïve!_

_The meaning of the repetitive boring acts_

_The reason that we march forward and don't relax_

_Looking for that, too; looking for that, too_

_But I don't know what to do_

_In sad times, dancing's worth a try_

_Sometimes you want to laugh and cry_

_Those things are so boring, I would rather die!_

_Shall we sing of pop's senses, my darling?_

_The whole world before my eyes turned around_

_My heart made a sound like a sick little starling_

_Oh, not yet, I just can't forget you, ah!_

_Oh, the scenery from this angle is lovely_

_What will happen to all these beautiful views?_

_Since not a single thing will change, definitely_

_Will you keep seeking something you can use?_

_With a hop-step, shall we dance, my darling?_

_In the corner of the whole world, a one-two_

_One little crash and I feel like I'm sparkling_

_This lovely sense of melting into you_

_"Poof" and "hurrah" and I'd just disappear so let's_

_Leave it all behind in the next moment_

_Sayonara, with such happiness_

_To the ending world, I will say, ah—_

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**CHAPTER ONE**

**The Beginning of the End**

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4:38AM.

I stared at the green lettering of the clock. I'd had that horrible dream again.

Turning over to face the wall, I shrank into myself, curling up like a dead leaf. I wanted to forget; why—why couldn't I forget? Images flashed through my mind as I lay there, and I winced. Remembering hurt. Everything hurt.

It all began when I was ten years old and my father started drinking. I had a hard time remembering a lot before that point, because nothing stuck out so much as all the pain he'd caused. He beat my mother, he beat me, he lied, he yelled. He did everything he could to hurt us. After a while, I'd started to think I could live through it, that it didn't matter anymore. I'd started to think that I was strong.

And then it happened.

Five months ago, a few weeks before my sixteenth birthday. It was horrible. Horrible that I lived with him, that I had to see him every day, that he didn't care what he'd done to me. I couldn't stand it. When I went to bed every night, I could still hear the sound of his voice mocking me, and I could still feel it: his hands all over me, his lips on mine—

_STOP!_ I commanded myself, tears threatening to spill. I gave a dry sob, bringing my hand up to my mouth to stifle the sound.

Hiccuping, I forced myself to think of my mom—of her beautiful blue eyes, her soft pink hair. I took deep breaths and started to calm down. At least I still had her, I told myself. At least I still had my mother. I had someone to rely on, someone to talk to. I had someone, at least, who loved me. As far as I was concerned, she was all that was keeping me alive, the only reason to keep going. Without her, I wouldn't have still been here.

I sighed, closing my eyes. I needed sleep.

Someone knocked on the door softly. "Luka?"

I turned over.

"Are you awake?" my mom asked in a whisper.

"Yeah," I said, sitting up.

She sat on the side of my bed, smiling sweetly. "How are you, honey?"

My mom often came in at night to see me. It was usually the only time we really had to ourselves. She'd been coming in a lot more lately, knowing I was having a hard time.

"I'm okay," I said. I didn't want her to worry.

"Did you like dinner last night?"

"Yeah, thanks." I smiled. She'd made pasta last night, my favorite.

My mom shifted herself a bit, and her eyes fixed on a hole in the wall. I remembered narrowly dodging the punch that caused it.

"Luka," said my mom, "you know I love you, right?"

I looked back to her. "Of course, I do."

Then I noticed for the first time that she wasn't wearing her pajamas. She was fully dressed.

My brow furrowed. "Mom, what's going on?"

"Honey, I'm…" She pursed her lips, looking down for a moment at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. "I'm leaving."

A chill washed over me. "What?"

"I'm sorry I can't take you with me, but there won't be enough room for two of us."

"But…but where are you going?"

"Don't worry about that," she answered.

"But—but I…you…" I stammered.

"I'll be back for you, Luka," she said, "I promise." She ran her hand down the side of my face.

At this point I stopped trying to question or reason. It only made sense for her to leave. It only made sense for the last thing worth having in my life to be taken from me like everything else. It made sense for me to get what I deserved, which was, in accordance to what had happened to me so far, not much. So as much as I wanted to yell and scream that she couldn't go, she couldn't leave me here with this bastard I called my father, she just couldn't, I didn't. I stayed quiet.

She got up and made for the door. "I love you, Luka."

I bit my lip. "I love you, Mom."

At 5:46 AM, the last good thing I had walked out of my life.

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**A/N:** Well, that's it for the first chapter? What did you think? Please R&R! ^_^ Thank you for reading!


	2. Face it Later

**A/N:** Hey, all! I'm back with chapter two! I hope you enjoy it!

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**CHAPTER TWO**

**Face It Later**

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I woke up to a stiff neck and the sound of my father screaming.

"That bitch left me! That stupid bitch left me!"

I sighed. Just another day in the Megurine household.

The stiff neck was my fault. I'd fallen asleep on my side, facing the doorway, watching and waiting for my mother to come back in and tell me it was all a cruel joke, even though I knew deep down that it wasn't.

Looking at the clock, I quickly slid out of bed. I had to get ready for school. I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out the first outfit I saw; I'd gotten in the habit of arranging all my clothes so I could get to them and change into them fast, because I never knew when my dad was going to just burst into my room, and I didn't want my back turned or anything if he came in. I swiftly took off last night's clothes and got into today's, my dad stomping around all the while.

I was just pulling down my shirt when my father threw the door open and marched in. "Your damn mother's walked out on us."

It hit me fully what had happened last night. My face fell even further, if that was possible.

"Well," he said, "what have you to say to that? Still like your precious Mommy better than me?"

He gave me a crazed smile. I shivered, and looked toward the bottom-left corner of my vision. He wasn't drunk; that meant he was less violent and twisted than usual, but far better at hurting me emotionally. My father had always been jealous of my relationship with my mother, even when I was little. I hadn't realized until a few years ago, but it was true.

"You should look at me when I'm talking to you," he said, stepping closer to me.

I made a small, involuntary noise and backed away, almost into the dresser.

"What's the matter, baby?"

"Don't," I said. "Don't call me that."

He just chuckled and softly stroked my cheek. I shuddered, and for a moment, all I could think of was that horrible night. _The feeling of my back against the floor and my screaming and pleading and—_

Crying out, I jumped away, my heart racing. "I-I have to go to school," I stuttered, grabbing my bookbag, and rushing past him out of my room before he could stop me.

I ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I let out a sigh. I was safe—for now.

Before, I didn't have to be this afraid. He was less likely to try anything with my mother around, even when he was drunk. He would hit either of us regardless of whether the other was around, but this kind of thing…

I shook my head to bring myself back to here and now. I brushed my long, cascading hair, so much like my mother's. I tried my hardest not to think of her, the one thing that used to ease my broken heart and mind. As I got ready, my mind wandered a bit, and I realized things were going to be very, very different now. My mother had done most of the laundry, shopping, cleaning… Who was going to do these things now? I knew for certain that my father would never do two out of those three things unless threatened with death or something, and the other only out of dire necessity. It looked like that responsibility would fall to me, now. My mother worked, too; her not being here meant less money to live on as well.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and hesitated as I reached for the doorknob. It was silent. _Well_, I figured, _if he's waiting for me right outside the door, he's not going anywhere, so I may as well go out._

Opening the door, I headed straight for out when I saw he wasn't standing in the way. I got all the way to the front door before I heard him say, "See you after school." I paused for a moment, not daring to look at him, then continued on my way.

All kinds of worry filled my head as I walked to school. The "what-if"s piled up so high I could hardly see straight. This was bad. This was really, really bad. The clamor in my head finally became so much that I had to stop walking and take several long, deep breaths.

_Face it later_, I told myself. _Just worry about school for now._

Looking ahead, I sighed and kept on walking.

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I stopped in the bathroom on the way to my first class and saw a blue notebook sitting near one of the sinks. It's cover was perfect, so I assumed it was brand-new. I flipped it open and was surprised to find that every single page had been written on—and it wasn't homework. It looked like a journal or something of that nature. I took a look around to make sure no one was watching, then turned back to the notebook. I looked on the inside covers for a name or grade or something, but there was nothing.

I was about to just put it back where I found it when the first line caught my eye: _If you happen to be reading this, please don't stop; I have to tell someone. Someone has to know._ Confused, I flipped to the back again and found that the whole last page was extremely messy. It must have been very rushed. At the bottom of the page, there was a signature: _Miki_; although, the owner had been in such a hurry, she'd forgotten to dot the second "i."

I thought for a moment. There was only one Miki in the school, and she'd moved away a few days ago. She hadn't seemed the type to do this sort of thing, but then, I hadn't known her very well.

Suddenly the bell rang. I looked at the notebook in my hand. I wasn't sure what to do with it, exactly, but leaving it here now somehow didn't feel quite right. I quickly put it in my bag and headed off to my first class.

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Being a few minutes late didn't matter for my first class. Everyone was late for Mr. Hiyama's class. Always. And if one were to have passed it randomly one day in the middle of its duration, one would have wondered what in the name of holy heaven was happening behind that door, because it would be so noisy.

Kiyoteru Hiyama was a young man in his first year of teaching at this level. He was terribly nice and used to working with grade-schoolers; the 10th graders did nothing but take advantage of his lenience.

So, when I entered, I was not surprised to find Lily, the newest student, standing on her chair and giving an impromptu singing concert. It was obviously a parody of something, because as she stood there, blonde hair swinging along with her to the beat, all the observers laughed. I silently wished I could be so carefree and confident as I took my seat at a table at the back of the room, alone, as always.

I continued watching her, the girl who seemed to have not a single worry to her name, until the door opened to reveal a new student.

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**A/N:** Anybody who can figure out where the first two chapter names have come from gets a cookie! Please R&R! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story, and I hope you're enjoying it. ^_^


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